


Passion is Power

by Dolf241



Series: Korriban Nights [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Comeplay, Cowgirl Position, F/F, F/M, Facials, Foreplay, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Group Sex, Missionary Position, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Rough Sex, Scratching, Seduction, Strip Tease, Surprise Facial, Vaginal Sex, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolf241/pseuds/Dolf241
Summary: By the standards of her hedonistic family, Vilesha is cold, self-righteous and prudish. With the assistance of her libidinous cousin Shanat, she delves into Dromund Kaas' nightlife to prove to them - and to herself - that she is as passionate as any of Korriban's children.
Relationships: Sith Pureblood/Human, Sith Pureblood/Sith Pureblood
Series: Korriban Nights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635616
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Passion is Power

"Do you know what your problem is, cousin?"

Vilesha Sisk leaned back in her seat, sinking deeper into the plush velvet cushions and meeting the gaze of the woman opposite. Outside, visible through the huge windows behind them, the ruddy light of Korriban's sun shone over a craggy vista of crumbling mountains and ancient statues. Vilesha spun the wineglass between her fingers idly, and when her reply came, it was as dry and crisp as the blood-dark contents of her glass.

"Enthrall me."

A thin smile crept over her companion's face. Shanat made a small gesture and a spherical serving droid, the only other occupant in the room, drifted over to refresh her drink. It retreated as quickly as it had arrived, the low hum of its repulsor engine filling the long silence. Vilesha stared at her cousin, her poisonous yellow gaze meeting Shanat's heavy-lidded, golden eyes, content to let the other woman enjoy her little moment of superiority. Finally, Shanat spoke. 

"You're a puritan. Or that's how it appears to the rest of the family. They're afraid that as soon as you claim any kind of power within the House, you'll start banning their revels, burning their fine clothes and emancipating their slaves. Many of our dear relatives would be quite happy to see a change in direction, even an outright change in leadership, but not if it impinges upon the comforts they've become used to."

Vilesha snorted in contempt. "Degenerates," she muttered. Shanat shrugged one of her narrow shoulders.

"Perhaps. Either way you'll need their support, and they won't so much as listen until they're convinced supporting you won't cost them in the long run."

The silence returned. Vilesha pursed her lips angrily. It had been just over a year since her return to Korriban. Fourteen months of juggling brutal training regimes, preparation for war with the Republic, and dealing with the vicious arena that was Sith household politics. House Sisk was ancient, one of the six oldest Houses dotting Korriban's dusty red surface, and like its peers was bound both within and without by a complex web of alliances and betrayals. It could even trace its lineage fully back to the time of King Adas, before the Jen'Jidai exiles had conquered her people and reduced them to a hybridised client race. 

It was a history Vilesha was rightfully proud of, but her House's glory days were long gone, and it had fallen far. Few of its central bloodline could still manipulate the Force with any degree of strength or skill. Most, herself included, found the talent supposedly innate to her species was entirely absent. As a result, House Sisk had turned ever more inwards, shying away from any great challege which might reveal its growing weakness. What power remained was concentrated in a handful of monstrously inbred Purebloods, and the few dozen force-capable warriors who served them. Beyond that there was nothing but a legion of forceless scions with no purpose beyond maintaining the illusion of strength, and the terrorised Household slaves they vented their impotence upon. 

The situation was beyond intolerable, and Vilesha had no intent on allowing it to continue further. She herself was Forceless, and in another House would have been killed out of shame at birth. But years of of self-exile had proven her a skilled combatant and capable leader, and if her kin would only listen and follow her example, Vilesha knew some worth could still be found in her family's thinning blood. 

Her success, unfortunately, had been limited. Most of those quick to take up her banner were other Force-mutes left to drift around the periphery of House politics, or opportunists clearly trying to twist her cause to their own ends. To the bulk of her family she was a curiosity or an annoyance, preaching a philosophy of honour and discipline which seemed completely at odds with their sybaritic lifestyles.

And then there was Shanat.

She was everything Vilesha was not. A hedonistic sorceress and alchemist, strong in the ways of the Dark Side, as slippery and capricious as Vilesha was blunt and direct. She had married into House Sisk and inherited her husband's wealth upon his untimely death, and had promptly settled into a comfortable existence pursing her interests in the creation of ever-stranger forms of Sithspawn mutants. Were it not for her utter lack of political motivation, Vilesha would have written Shanat off as another parasite trying to use her as a way of furthering her own goals. As it was their shared contempt for the rest of the family made them allies, albeit cautious ones. 

"So," Vilesha asked, seeing that Shanat was waiting for her to ask the obvious question. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

Shanat smiled again and smoothed down the creases in her dress. There also they differed. Where Vilesha favoured modest robes of deep black and burgundy, Shanat decorated herself with shimmering garments of spun gold and silver, strategically cut to display scandalous expanses of flawless red skin that shone in turn with perfumed oils. She was a tall, slender woman, with a narrow face and soft, attractive features that borrowed more from her human than Sith ancestors. A long ponytail held upright by rigid metal bands emphasised her height further before spilling down past her shoulders like molten cocoa.

"Well, I do have one idea. But first, have you ever considered that this, this punishing regime of self-denial you've adopted might be misplaced?" Seeing Vilesha's expression, Shanat held up a finger to halt her cousin's angry retort. "No, let me finish. Your mother raised you alone away from the rest of her family, and then you spent...how long was it you spent away from Korriban?"

"Eight years."

"Eight years, the bulk of which was spent working for Hutts, or with mercenary soldiers, or cramped in grubby little smuggling freighters running errands for anyone willing to employ a rogue Pureblood. You've learned habits, cousin. Not necessarily good ones." 

"And look at the alternative!" Vilesha shot back. "This decadence is a weakness. It eats at the guts of our family, eroding their will to fight." 

She waved a hand at her surroundings. They sat in Shanat's quarters within House Sisk's sprawling estate, an angular fortress carved from glossy black stone and defended by all manner of sorcerous enchantments. That same stone made up the walls of Shanat's chamber, but it was barely visible behind the sheer amount of glossy marble and rich wooden paneling she had buried them beneath. Luxurious silks and fabrics were draped across the floor and hung from the ceiling, transforming the light coming from Shanat's prized chandelier into the dim, enticing glow of a brothel. Vilesha had struggled to adjust to the small comforts of her own apartment. The opulence Shanat cultivated made her stomach turn. 

"Over-reliance upon this frippery is killing us. Hardship and struggle are things to be embraced for the strength they bring." Vilesha sniffed disdainfully. "That was why I fled the Academy in the first place. Moving through the galaxy may not have brought about the manifestation of my people's gifts, but it stripped me of weakness, forced me to seek power in other ways. Do you expect me to believe that this is the better path?"

"Ah, but therein lies the key. Over-reliance." Shanat stressed the word. "You fled one way, seeking power through struggle and self-denial. Your family fled the other, surrounding itself in the hollow trappings of power to hide a weakness that already existed. Both are at fault. True power lies in the ability to possess endless comforts, yet walk away from them the moment they become a burden."

Vilesha frowned. The expression suited her. She had a hard, serious face, something only exaggerated by the bony ridges that circled her cheeks and long spines flanking her jaw. Her hair was full and black, contrasting sharply with her deep crimson skin and curling a little as it fell towards her shoulders. Three golden bars pierced the bridge of her nose, while a puckered blaster-scar burrowed through her scalp from her right temple to behind her ear. Vilesha sipped her wine in silence, gazing at her gilded surroundings before finally speaking.

"That's a valid point." Vilesha spoke slowly, conceding the matter with a small tilt of her head. "And not one I had considered before. I can hardly expect House Sisk to adopt my ways if they don't see me adopting theirs in return."

"Exactly!" Shanat set her drink down and clapped gleefully. The extravagent collection of rings she wore in her ears clattered softly. "We are not Jedi, my dear cousin. A life of cold asceticism is a poor fit for one of our bloodline. Power, yes. Strength, yes. Triumph, yes, and with it the right to enjoy the fruits of our conquests! Let them see that you are not a total stranger and they will accept you all the sooner." 

Vilesha cocked an eyebrow. "And this, I assume, is building up to the grand revelation of your plan? That it may be wise to show a little more..." she paused, choosing the word carefully, "enthusiasm for House Sisk's ways, that I accept. But if you expect me to start massacring my slaves for sport or descending into public sodomy, think again."

"Nothing so extreme." Shanat produced a holoslate from behind a cushion and thumbed the activator. Glowing aurebesh letters flickered into life above a map of Dromund Kas, the Sith Empire's capital world. A few deft flicks of Shanat's fingers zoomed in on Kaas City, then again down to street level. Lists of dates and numbers danced in the air. "You merely need show them a little vigor, to let them know you're no cold and miserable wannabe Jedi. Ah, there we go. You're free tomorrow night, yes?"

Vilesha nodded suspiciously. She trusted Shanat, to the extent that she trusted anyone, but the other Pureblood could be irritatingly presumptive at times.

"Good," Shanat said. "I've booked us a table at a rather expensive nightclub, one that I know our family has agents watching. We're going to have a fine night out, and hopefully be seen in the intimate company of a gentleman or two. That," she added with relish. "Will get tongues wagging."

The silence returned. Shanat eyed Vilesha's sour expression with amusement. "You don't approve?" She asked sweetly.

"I assumed you meant something a little more prosaic. Indulging more at feasts, or changing my home decor for something more opulent. Not whoring around like some Zeltron tramp."

"You're looking to make a statement, cousin, something that proves you aren't the self-righteous, humourless bore people take you for. A few extra slices of braised Bantha steak isn't going to do that. Besides," Shanat waved the holoslate in front of Vilesha's face. "You make it sound like we'll be visiting some filthy spaceport tavern. Club Silencio is the second most expensive nightclub on Dromund Kas. It attracts a very exclusive clientele."

Suddenly feeling the need to fortify herself, Vilesha drained her glass in one gulp and stiffened, glaring angrily at a particularly ugly painting enshrined on the opposite wall. Something about Shanat's choice of words needled her. She was strict, yes, hard and demanding of herself and everyone around her. But the Pureblood had never considered herself dour or boring for channeling her passion into constructive ends.

"They really called me that?" Vilesha asked, trying to keep a mote of hurt from creeping into her voice. "Who? Which of the spinless ingrates was it?"

"Baartok did. Those exact words." Shanat sighed and sipped her drink. "Cousin, I've heard you speak. I've heard the fury in your words every time you rail against the weakness and corruption that surrounds us, and I believe in it. I wouldn't be here otherwise. The rest of the House will in time, but they have to accept you as one of their own first."

A wave of the hand summoned Shanat's serving droid to refill Vilesha's glass. She sipped slowly, the deep frown never once leaving her face as she digested her companion's words. She certainly wasn't afraid of the concept, nor ashamed of picking someone up at a nightclub, but it simply felt below her. Her whole life had been spent watching Dark Lords and Ladies, Sith Knights and Inquisitors at a distance, trying to copy them in the hope of awakening some dormant spark of power. They seemed more than mortal, detached from the common herd and its tawdry lusts for material and physical wealth. But now she was among them, jostling with them for position, and if anything the opposite seemed to be true.

Vilesha grimaced, leaned forwards and set her glass down with a sharp click. 

"Fine. But I don't have anything suitable to wear. Most of my garments are made for more restrained gatherings."

Shanat grinned, her teeth bright against her ruby skin. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure I can find something for you to wear."

\---

Korriban was a cold, dry, dusty world, its vast deserts and sandy mountains littered with small fortress-settlements scattered among the crumbling relics of bygone Sith eras. Dromund Kas, by contrast, was hot and wet, with those parts of its landmass not covered in steaming jungles paved over for the sprawling cities from which the Jen'Jidai conquerors ruled their Empire. A short lightspeed hop from Korriban, it had been one of the cornerstones of the first, ancient Sith Empire, back in the long lost days of King Adas, when the Sith had ruled free and unchallenged. 

Vilesha disliked the world immensely. It was a monument to the fact that her people lived in bondage, their name stolen, enslaved by the descendants of those exiled Jedi who first sought to convert their peers to the Dark Side. It combined the worst excesses of Jed'Jidai cruelty and waste with the bickering and bureaucracy of Republic politics. She had visited Dromund Kas four times previously, and on each of those occasions had been greeted with torrential rain that lasted the entirety of her visit.

The fifth was no exception. Clouds grumbled overhead and drops of water skidded from the transparent canopy of her speeder as it cruised through the city's airspace. Towers loomed on every side, blunt and monolithic, their lit windows glowing like clusters of arachnid eyes in the night. Through the gaps in the skyline Vilesha could just make out the jagged profile of Kaas City's primary Sith temple in the distance, eerie, blue-tinged lights playing around its needling spires. Her lip curled at the sight.

"Loathsome, isn't it?" Shanat said, following Vilesha's gaze. "It beggars belief that anyone could call that unhallowed durasteel monstrosity a temple." 

Vilesha grunted in agreement and turned away, fidgeting with the dress Shanat had picked for her. Her cousin had selected a narrow skirt of dark gold matched with a glossy black bodice that left far more cleavage on display than she was entirely used to. The skirt was slashed so deeply at the sides it felt more like a loincloth, revealing her thighs and a pair of dagger-heeled boots cut from the same shining material as the bodice.

"Ancestors, my mother would have a heart attack if she saw me wearing this," she groaned.

"From what I've heard of Zaylis' younger days, she would have approved." Shanat said. "You look nice. And trust me, cousin, if I had breasts like yours I wouldn't be so keen to hide them away."

"Was this really necessary as well?" Vilesha gestured to her skirt. "It rides almost up to my underwear when I cross my legs. And don't tell me that's the point. I couldn't even conceal a pistol under it."

Shanat grinned, not even trying to hide her amusement at Vilesha's discomfort. She had opted for an assembly of semi-sheer white veils, hung around an ornate brassiere and garter belt of spun silver. The garment shifted in odd ways as she moved, revealing and concealing one part of her body after the other, with only a few pieces of silk permanently anchored to hide her intimacies.

"And yet you still insisted on strapping your Lightsaber to one leg. The point is to turn heads. To be noticed, and to be wanted." Shanat prounced the last word with obvious pleasure. "The dress says, 'I am beautiful'. The scars it displays say 'I am powerful'. It makes for a potent combination. It's a shame those ceremonial pauldrons didn't fit, we could have done you up like one of King Adas' warrior-brides. Now that would have been something!"

"I'll take your word for it." Vilesha rubbed her bare shoulders, feeling old scars along with the fresher wounds she had earned at blade-practice etched into her red skin. A storm was rolling in from the ocean, and thunder boomed in the distance. The speeder rocked precariously as it wove in and out of late night air traffic. "How far out are we from this Silencio place?"

"Not far. A few minutes." The speeder dived, swooping away from the airways and down towards the city streets. "Why? Eager to get started?"

Vilesha didn't reply. In may ways this was nothing too alien. She had little time or patience for romance, and her past sexual encounters had largely been brief, disposable things, sought out with rough men when the frustration she felt towards the galaxy became too much to easily keep bottled up. Of late she had taken to the company of her slaves, using them for a while like toys before putting them away and returning to her duties. But Shanat had been right. She was a passionate woman, full of drive and fury, and could not fail to be at least a little stirred at what her cousin had planned. 

"So. Once we've found someone suitable and know we've been seen. What then?" Vilesha looked out the window as she spoke, avoiding Shanat's eye. 

The other woman laughed. "Oh come, Vilesha, you aren't that ignorant. Do you want me t-"

"You know what I mean!" Vilesha snapped. "You, me, our...paramour. This is about me making a statement to the family. Where do we take him? I assume you will recluse yourself while we...do what is necessary."

"Him?" Shanat's eyebrows shot upwards. "You mean them, surely? If I don't get my leg over as well tonight, cousin, I'm going to be extremely disappointed. Club Silencio maintains a number of private rooms. They're intended for private business dealings, political meetings between Moffs, that sort of thing." She waved a bejeweled hand dismissively. "But the staff know what they're really used for. I have one paid up for our use, so you need not worry."

Shanat paused for a moment, watching Vilesha with faint amusement. "Unless, of course, you're anxious about coupling alongside my partner and I?"

"No. That will suffice." She was, of course, her previous encounters having been purely private affairs, but Vilesha would rather die than admit it to her cousin. Something caught her attention and she rose in her seat, seeing a way to change the subject. "Look, there. Is that it?"

Coming up before them was a large, three story building wrought in the hard and imposing Kaas architectural style, its dark marble facade glittering with tasteful aurebesh holo-displays. Predatory plants transplanted from Dromund Kas' jungle and imprisoned behind shimmering force fields circled the landing pad, snapping at the tiny figures drifting back and forth between the building their vehicles. A pair of heavy war droids roamed the grounds, their twin laser cannons diligently tracking every arrival and departure, which earned a small nod of approval. 

Shanat rose from her seat and leaned over Vilesha's shoulder, a wide grin on her face.

"It is indeed, cousin. Our destination."

The speeder evened out, circling the club until their droid pilot received clearance to land. It swooped into its designated spot and opened the doors with a dull clunk and hiss of hydraulics. Vilesha stepped out of the vehicle, idly watching the lethal vegetation circling hungrily while Shanat fed credit-chits into the payment slot. A second force field stretched overhead, fizzing as it was lashed with rain. Between that, the garden and the droids, she had to admit it was an impressive venue.

"Who established this place?" she asked, inclining her head as Shanat joined her. The nightclub loomed ahead of them, the rhythmic thump-thump of bass music vibrating through the ground like some terrible heartbeat. The handful of guests lurking by the landing pad scattered as the two Purebloods swept past, the more timid averting their eyes or murmuring deferential greetings. "Personal deflector shields don't come cheap, much less ones that can shelter a whole building. And look - those are military droids, not standard security models."

Shanat shrugged. "Impossible to say. People who go prying too deeply into Silencio's business affairs tend to go missing, but whoever runs it does so through several shell corps. Of course," she leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "If you believe the rumours, three members of the Dark Council have been connected to the place, either as guests or financiers. Nobody can quite agree on which three, though."

"The Dark Council? Nonsense. More likely it's another front for the Hutts." Vilesha almost shouted the last few words as she registered her weapon with the door guard. The music thumping out onto the lawn was deafening. 

Inside it was worse. Flickering blue strobes pulsed and shook with the beat, illuminating a swollen mass of humanoids twisting and gyrating upon the dance floor. Vilesha turned to Shanat and tried to speak, only for her words to be devoured by the grinding crash of discordant Byss electronica. Her cousin simply held up a hand and beckoned her to follow, leading her to one of the darkened booths which lined the walls. A few heads turned their way as they passed the bar, and Vilesha felt a small tinge of haughty pride at the appreciative looks in the eyes of those left in their wake. 

Shanat touched something once they were seated, triggering a privacy field that cut the noise to a more manageable level. A pair of holo-menus winked into life at the same moment, each floating at head-height above the table and slowly scrolling automatically through lists of cocktails and legal narcotics. Vilesha rubbed her ringing ears and scowled, then jabbed a finger at one of the options. 

"What is a 'Pink Zeltron'?"

"Red ploin juice and raw farsnen spirits, served over crushed ice and sweetdust. Nice enough, but a little sickly if you have more than one."

"Oh." Vilesha's scowl deepened as she continued down the list. "What about a...a 'Pureblood Fury'? They named a drink after us?"

"Spicefruit mash, sieved to remove the seeds, mixed with strong liqueurs and blackhaze extract." Shanat rattled the ingredients off without looking around. Her fingers flicked over the menu, dragging her choices to one side and connecting them to her credit account. "Why, what's the matter?"

Vilesha growled and sank down in her seat. "Its insulting. I'm going to kill whoever made this."

Shanat sighed. "You can't kill anyone, we've only been here five minutes. Honestly, cousin. It's a wonder anyone can take you anywhere."

"Fine." Vilesha dismissed the menu with a wave of her hand. "I'll have whatever you're having. Just don't make me regret this any more than I already am."

The muted sound of Silencio's hammering music surrounded them as Shanat finished their order. The nightclub's decor was unmistakably Imperial. Everything was wrought from hard triangles, black where it wasn't flashing blue or red, at once enticing and imposing. Dancers in skintight bodysuits writhed on raised plinths, commanding the thrashing mob on the dance floor on with their every frantic movement. Most were human, as were the patrons, though here and there Vilesha spotted the writhing lekku of a Twi'lek, deep blue skin of a Chiss or the studded crown of a Zabrak's horns.

Any one of them could be an informant in the pay of her family. Vilesha found it hard to credit that anyone could act as an effective spy in this environment, but she trusted her cousin not to mislead her. Their drinks arrived, brought over by a waitress who bowed and hurried away as soon as the slender glasses were on the table. Vilesha dipped her little finger in one and sucked it suspiciously. Less sweet than its noxious lime-green appearance suggested, with a pleasing burn at the back of her throat as it went down. 

"Good?" Shanat asked. Vilesha shrugged a shoulder, picked up the glass and drank. 

"It'll do. So. We're here. Next?"

Her cousin didn't reply immediately, instead giving Vilesha a questioning look. "This really is business for you, isn't it?" She said. "You can't just let go and enjoy yourself. Ancestors, do you ever relax, even just for a moment?"

Vilesha pursed her lips. "I do. Occasionally. When the situation allows it. We live in serious times, cousin, I don't feel you should criticise me for having a temperament to match."

"Yes, but there's a time and a place. Look." Shanat leaned over the table, the fragments of her down ghosting over her red skin. "Do you remember what I said back at the estate? Power doesn't come from self-denial, but the ability to indulge without losing oneself to idleness and apathy. We're here with an ulterior motive, but that doesn't stop us enjoying ourselves. Honestly, you're so hung up on trying to prove yourself as a Sith that you're forgetting to be yourself."

"Hmm." Vilesha's frown deepened as she digested Shanat's lecture. Part of her resented being preached to in such a fashion. The Pureblood's fingers twitched with the sudden impulse to lash out at the other woman, but it was quickly washed away by another thought. Vilesha had known her mother as a strict, dignified woman, their relationship one of teacher and pupil as much as mother and daughter. But after her passing, as she was sorting Zaylis' things, Vilesha had come across the holopics her mother had taken in her youth. She had been smiling in all of them, full of fierce and savage joy, surrounded by old friends and lovers alike.

It had been like looking at a completely different person. For a while Vilesha hadn't known what to make of them, but now, she felt herself beginning to understand.

Vilesha swallowed. "A time and a place. Yes. There...is wisdom in that, thank you." She leaned forwards and smoothed down her dress, an awkward, lopsided smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "And I suppose it would make our job here harder if I spend the whole night sulking in the corner. One can all too easily read 'dark and seductive' as 'sullen and miserable', after all."

Shanat laughed. "Ancestors, that was almost an apology! But I'll take what I can get, so put yourself to some use. Take a gander out at the crowd and help me select our...oh, what was the word you used?"

"Paramours? By the night's end, I suspect 'victims' might be more apt." Vilesha smirked. It was almost impossible to tell one figure from another upon the dance floor, so she turned her attention to the thinner crowd milling around the bar. A piece of basalt as dark and angular as the hull of a battleship, it was stacked high with bubbling flasks and glass pipes that wove around each other like string. Men and women called out their orders to the bartender, and different combinations of violently coloured liquid would be decanted from the pipes and into their glasses. 

Most were wealthy aristocrats or their offspring, as vapid as they were well-dressed. Vilesha dismissed them immediately. There was no shortage of the cretins, and if all else failed she was confident one could be bullied into playing the required part. Others were clearly off-world traders. Smugglers if their furtive movements were any indication, as if they expected a squad of Imperial army troopers to burst in and drag them off at any moment. They were of more interest; capable enough to survive alone, brave enough to risk plying their trade in Imperial space. The idea of showing one how hospitable the Sith Empire could be amused her greatly. 

Shanat had slumped down in her seat, her eyes were half-closed, one hand raised. Her fingers gently danced as she jumped from mind to mind, pulling surface thoughts from the crowd. Suddenly she pointed to a pair of figures in an alcove a little way from their table. 

"What about them? Grand Moff Tukaan and his aide. Being seen with a Moff would certainly make people sit up and notice, and you might come away with a few more connections."

Tukaan was a giant, broad-shouldered man with a ruddy face half covered by thick beard and a growing spread around his belly. Vilesha sniffed. "Really, cousin? I'd have thought you'd have better taste."

"Sometimes one has to pick practicality over pride," Shanat shrugged. "But I take your point. Those two?"

"Miraluka? Hmm." Vilesha toyed with her drink, watching the next pair of men Shanat had pointed out. Each wore a dark veil over his face, hiding the blank, eyeless sockets beneath. She shook her head. "Ugh. Can you imagine them taking those off? It would be like coupling with a doll. Besides, they see using the Force, no? What if I was of a mind to blindfold him?"

Shanat raised an eyebrow. "What?" Vilesha retorted. "Don't act the prude, that's my job. Is it not pleasing to see a man laid out before you, naked, helpless and so very...available?" 

The other woman didn't reply, turning back to the crowd with an amused look in her face. Vilesha huffed and turned away as well. Just as she thought they were getting nowhere, the music stopped and the dance floor cleared. Though the awful thumping din restarted shortly after, a pair of men caught Vilesha's eye as they detached themselves from the mass and retreated to a booth further along the wall. Vilesha jabbed Shanat in the ribs with her elbow.

"Cousin, look! There, in the uniforms."

One had sat, a darker-haired fellow with a sharp nose and dusky skin. His sinewy companion leaned against the wall, mimicking the snake-hipped movements of Silencio's dancers in a way that left Vilesha thoughtfully silent for several long seconds. He had a neatly chiseled face and blonde hair a little longer than army regulations would normally allow. Every now and then he flipped it away from his eyes in a nonchalant manner Vilesha found rather charming. Both wore sleek charcoal dress uniforms and had the rigid stance of career soldiers.

"Where? Let me see." Shanat pushed up to her, peering over Vilesha's shoulder. "Them? The army boys? My, that blonde one looks like something right off a recruitment poster, doesn't he?" 

"Yes, well, I saw him first, so don't get any ideas. I think his friend is wearing a Leiutenant's badge, so you can content yourself with having his superior."

"Now, now," Shanat pulled Vilesha back down into the seat. "Indulge me a moment. Why them? They're just soldiers. You could be seen with someone a lot more powerful than them tonight. Unless - wait, do you have a thing for uniforms?" The Pureblood laughed in delight at Vilesha's pained expression. "You do!"

"It's - they're - yes! Fine!" Vilesha snapped. "It isn't that strange! You can understand, I hope, how one might be attracted to the suggestion of a powerful, competent man leashed and subservient to higher authority?" She paused for a moment and cleared her throat. "And it helps that they're often pleasingly tight across the chest and hindquarters. Now get up, we're going over to them."

The pair hurried to finish their drinks and stood, Vilesha keeping herself half-turned away until the deep crimson flush across her cheeks had abated. The thrashing racket of the club swept in as they deactivated the privacy field and began to make their way through the crowd, which parted at the sight of them with gratifying swiftness. Few Imperial citizens could fail to recognise a Pureblood Sith, and fewer still dared the ire of crossing them. Those too caught up in their revels were hurriedly pulled aside by their companions to make way, their apologies lost in the storm of light and noise. 

~Do you actually have a plan here, cousin?~

Shanat's voice hissed into Vilesha's mind like a cold draft. She eyed the taller Sith and shook her head a fraction.

~Ah, I thought not. Very well. Follow my lead.~ 

They emerged from the crowd, Shanat ahead of Vilesha, to find the two men now sat in their booth. The darker-haired one looked up, first in surprise, then in wariness as he realised the two Purebloods were heading in his direction. He nudged his companion and whispered something in his ear, who blinked and glanced towards them just in time for Vilesha to catch his gaze. He had bright, roguish eyes, pale blue under their straw curtain of hair, and her skin tingled in excitement at the guilty way they looked her up and down.

The music died off once more as they came within range of the soldiers' privacy field. Shanat stepped smoothly in and gave the two men a broad smile. 

"Good evening, gentlemen. My cousin and I were celebrating her recent return from Republic space; we caught sight of your uniforms and thought you might like to join us."

The dark-haired man glanced back and forth between the two Sith. He drummed his fingers anxiously on the table.

"Of course, my lady...sorry, ladies. Have we done something wrong?"

Vilesha tried to match Shanat's welcoming expression. It sat oddly on her face. "No, not at all. But you're enlisted, and that means we have more in common than we do with that lot." She gestured dismissively to the crowd as they settled in opposite the pair. "Vilesha, of House Sisk. And this is Shanat, also of House Sisk."

"Sel Rennagen," the blonde said. His companion introduced himself as Joti Terrix, who relaxed a fraction and raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between the two Purebloods. "Sisters?"

"Cousins. Not by blood. It's a title, really, Ancestors know it's easier than wading through the morass of specific household terms," Shanat replied. "But what of yourselves? Do you visit Silencio much?"

"I wish. It's a little above a soldier's pay to come regularly, but we're celebrating as well." Sel clapped Joti on the shoulder. "My friend here earned his promotion to Lieutenant, and if that's not worth a little binge, what is?"

Joti nodded, a grim smile on his tanned face. "Seven months hunting Republic merchant freighters under a black flag along the border. You wouldn't believe the amount of arms they're shipping to their border colonies. Something big's going to go down soon, I tell you that."

They ordered another round of drinks and the little group struck up a comfortable conversation. Shanat did much of the talking, keeping Joti focused on her. Every now and then she would shift a fraction, letting her veils shift and re-settle, teasing the man with everything her gown didn't quite reveal. It transpired that the two men had been commanding a six-strong team, all male, and they had largely been restricted to their ship for the duration of their pirate mission. As the night went on, the desire in their eyes steadily deepened, held in check by the potent mix of fear and respect the Sith drummed into their subjects from birth. 

While Shanat distracted Joti, Vilesha and Sel held their own conversation. The man didn't seem quite as awed as his friend had been, which Vilesha found especially intriguing. She found herself content to let him lead as she took his measure, occasionally cutting in with a shadowed comment about her travels when she sensed the discussion stalling. He had just finished recounting his struggle with the last crewman aboard a Republic trader when she made her move, leaning in to brush a hand along his arm while her boot slid up his calf.

"You must have been very courageous," she purred. "It takes something to fight up close like that. No weapons, not even a blade, just two bodies struggling against one another. It's rather intimate, don't you think?" She smiled, the expression dark and hungry. "Such things come naturally to us, of course, but many humans don't have the stomach for it."

Sel reached for his drink and swallowed hard. Vilesha withdrew to her half of the table, letting her eyes linger before flicking away. He was rather attractive, she thought. Young and strong. She could well imagine the lithe, strapping body concealed beneath his tight uniform, how it would feel push him down and run her hands over his chest as he surged inside her. The Pureblood shifted in her seat. The faint stirrings she had felt in the airspeeder were spreading, filling her belly with something hot and feverish, and she couldn't help but glance back at Sel as she waited for the soldier's return shot. 

It came, not in words, but in a mirror of her own gesture. Vilesha felt the cool leather of the man's shoe brush against her boot, then slowly creep up her calf and across the hot, bare skin of her leg. It slipped away before reaching her thigh, something for which she was both deeply disappointed and quietly relieved. No matter what Shanat might council on the matter, having a man run his toe almost up to her crotch in public was a step too far. She caught Sel's eye and crooked a finger in her direction, sliding across the low couch seat to make room. 

Vilesha knew well the dark reputation her people had earned themselves. Even in the Empire, Purebloods were feared for their violent emotions and overbearing arrogance, and the stories only became worse in neutral or Republic space. On those rare occasions during her exile where she had felt the need for a partner, she had become used to the disappointment of a promising man suddenly losing his nerve when their flirtations threatened to become physical. Sel read her intent and hesitated, and for a moment she felt that same frustration welling up inside her.

But then he pushed his drink to the other side of the table and moved around to join her, flicking his hair out of the way as he squeezed into the seat. The fresh scent of his aftershave mixed with the faint tang of sweat from Silencio's heat made her head spin as she drew him into her arms. He was a little taller than her and had to bow to bring his face level with hers, their lips brushing for a heartbeat before they embraced. The kiss was awkward at first, made cautious by their last shreds of wariness and reserve. But then Vilesha growled and wrapped a hand around Sel's jaw, dragging him down as she devoured his lips and forced her tongue into his mouth. 

It was always like this, she thought distantly as Sel reciprocated, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders and drawing her in close against his chest. Whether in love or in battle, she was always so measured and controlled, her natural fury suborned by the greater strength of her will. But once the two sides were engaged and restraint no longer such a concern, the iron grip she kept on her emotions would slip, leaving the passions which she kept so carefully restrained to boil forth.

She kissed the man harder, her free hand sliding along his ribs even as she felt him touch her thigh, first cautiously and then with growing enthusiasm as she moved her leg to give him access. His fingers were rough and calloused, and she broke the kiss to let out another half-growl, half-moan of encouragement in his ear. He traveled down, gripping the hard muscle of her thigh and letting her feel the strength in his hand, before reversing and gliding up until his fingers brushed the rim of her underwear.

Sel paused, pulling his head back, looking to her for permission to go further. Vilesha hissed under her breath. She wanted him - wanted his fingers on her body, touching and caressing at her command, wanted them to slide into her sex and feel the wetness that was gathering there. Her lip drew back in a silent snarl of irritation.

"Not here," she growled, flushed and panting. "Shanat!"

Her cousin was leaning against the back of the booth, watching the pair of them with a knowing smirk on her face. Vilesha cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair, composing herself as best she could. 

"You said you had a private room here?"

"That I do, cousin. Shall we retreat to it?"

It was only then that Vilesha noticed the smear of blood glistening on Shanat's cheek, and the bite marks on Joti's lips. Her cousin's strange garment was out of place as well, as if a hand - hers or the soldiers' - had been roaming underneath the bustier. Evidently the pair of them had been locked in their own embrace before noticing hers. She glanced at Sel, who was rather sheepishly trying to hide the sharp crease that had appeared in his trousers.

"I rather think that would be wise." Vilesha rose, catching Sel by the arm and pulling him up after her. Shanat and Joti followed, the other Sith leading them from the relative privacy of their booth back out and around the dance floor to a recessed staircase leading to the second floor. The walk was brief - no more than a minute - but Vilesha found herself wanting to hurry nonetheless. Every passing look from the crowd felt like a blaster shot striking between her shoulder blades. She could imagine people talking, rumours spreading - which was, she reminded herself, the point, but it felt like a slight against her ego nonetheless.

Her desires were too inflamed to turn back, of course, and Shanat would never allow her to live it down if her courage failed. So she gritted her teeth and strode after the other Pureblood, her face locked in a cold sneer, glaring haughtily at anyone who dared to raise their eyes towards her. A heavily-set bouncer confirmed Shanat's booking at the base of the staircase and they were ushered up, the Sith's arch expression only softening as soon as they were out of sight.

"Bah," she grumbled. "The nerve of those peons."

Shanat counted off the doors until they reached the right one. "Hmm?" She asked, fiddling with the lock.

"The crowd. Eyeing us like exhibits in some zoo." Vilesha rubbed her arms. Shanat laughed and the door unlocked with a chime.

"No-one was looking, cousin, no-one cares. This is what normal people do." She caught Vilesha's gaze and gave her a sly grin. "Oh relax, I'm talking about the herd down there. The right people will have seen us, so don't worry about that. Just enjoy yourself." 

Sel gave her a questioning look. Vilesha sighed and rolled her eyes, silencing him with a small shake of her head. The man was a means to an end, one she felt no need to explain herself to.

Warm, ruddy light filled the private room. The far side was dominated by vast red-tinged windows that looked out onto Dromund Kas' stormy skyline, with a ring of low, velvet-covered couches arranged around a circular table. A low table stocked with bottles sat in one corner, while glow-panels built into the walls and tinted to match the windows threw up long, dancing shadows as the four entered. The sound from downstairs was muffled to little more than a background hum, though Vilesha could still feel each bang and pulse shake the building down to its foundations.

Joti and Sel wandered forwards, turning slowly and examining the place as if in a dream. Shanat locked the door and hurried past, kneeling next to the table and sliding a mirrored black panel aside. With the touch of a few keys, a smooth silver pole rose from the center and locked securely against the ceiling. Vilesha raised an eyebrow.

"I hope you don't expect me to get on that thing," she said. Shanat laughed and leapt up onto the table without missing a beat, her veils fluttering as she spun experimentally around the pole and drawing an appreciative whistle from Sel. Vilesha shot him a poisonous look and grabbed him by the collar, hooking one of her legs around his ankles and forcing him down to his knees. She kissed him possessively before he could reply, driving her tongue into his mouth and letting out a low growl of approval as his hands found their way to her hips in turn. Vilesha felt her heart swell as they slid under the shimmering material of her skirt and cupped her buttocks, her bodice suddenly insufferably stifling and tight. 

Joti, meanwhile, had sprawled out on the couch, watching enraptured as Shanat danced. His nerves around the two Purebloods had vanished so swiftly Vilesha wondered if her cousin had worked some spell on him. Then again, she doubted Shanat needed to; she worked the pole with a born grace Vilesha had always lacked, her willowy body weaving from side to side in time with the muffled beat. Every so often she would pause and tear one of the white drapes from her garment, throwing it towards Joti or simply letting it fall carelessly at her feet. Already much of her was bare, the crimson light blending the few veils she still wore into her oiled skin.

"If you aren't going to join me up here, cousin, the least you could do is entertain our new friends," she called. "I'd hate for them to get bored."

Vilesha snorted dismissively, but she dragged Sel back to his feet and led him over to the couch, falling into place next to Joti. The two men each placed an arm around her, drawing in close and pressing her tight between their uniformed bodies. Sel's hand returned to her leg, stroking over her hot, crimson skin before gliding over her inner thigh. Joti kissed her shoulder and began working his way up to her neck, biting softly as he began to unpick the laces holding her bodice together.

The Pureblood moaned, low and husky, momentarily caught off guard. She had never been with more than a single man at once before, and the feeling of two pairs of hands working their way across her body left her wrong-footed and confused, unsure what to focus upon. It was neither the orchestrated, worshipful caress of a slave or the rough grope of a cantina mercenary, but something akin to a deep and rippling ocean, formless and all-encompassing, every touch and caress inciting her to abandon another shred of her reservations.

Sel reached the edge of her underwear. Vilesha felt her sex pulse, a sudden pang so intense it was almost painful, causing her to slump back and shudder with anticipation. 

"Enough of this," she hissed. "Enough wretched teasing. Put yourself to work, soldier, and don't be gentle."

There was a whisper of sensation as her underwear was pushed aside, a warm, glowing pulse as Sel ran his fingers over Vilesha's lips, and finally a deep, aching surge of pleasure as he sank his first two digits into the molten pit that lay between them. She was wet, so very wet, and he entered her with no resistance, crooking upwards and drawing back and forth along her silken walls. That earned him another throaty cry, the Pureblood's spine arching upwards as she scrabbled for purchase. 

"Oh, I think I felt that from here. It's good, isn't it, cousin?" Shanat's voice drifted from somewhere. It was faint, as if coming through a thick fog, only dimly registering on Vilesha's mind. "To simply put aside your inhibitions and run wild."

She slurred something, half an insult and half agreement, the words struggling to make it past Joti's hungry lips. The man had undone his trousers and his cock rose from the tangle of dark hair around its base, hard, proud and terribly inviting. Vilesha took it, felt its weight and hardness, the man's heartbeat thudding in her palm. For a moment she squeezed, just hard enough to let him feel the strength of her grip, before relaxing and stroking him in time with the deep, luxurious motions of Sel's fingers at work inside her. The blonde soldier grunted and shifted, those motions losing their rhythm, before Vilesha felt her free hand being moved to grasp a second organ.

"That's rather presumptive of you," she remarked, tearing away from Joti's kiss and regarding Sel with cool amusement. "Do you think, Sel Rennagen, that I care for having men thrust themselves at me like eager children? That any part of me, even so much as a hand, is yours to do with as you will?"

"Feels like you're happy letting me do what I will with a much more sensitive place." The man grinned, his eyes shining with irreverent charm. He crooked his fingers, digging them deeper into Vilesha's sex, forcing her to swallow a faint whimper. "Don't think it's too much to ask you return the favour. Ma'am."

Vilesha raised her eyebrows. She would have been well within her rights to have the man dragged out of the building and flogged for his insolence. In any other circumstance she might well have done. But...how often did she find a man who could show the proper deference but still push back? The galaxy seemed split into cringing, servile whelps who fell at her feet or fled at her first thunderous look or domineering lords and ladies seeking to bring her to heel. Vilesha held Sel's gaze for a moment longer and then, dismissively flicking her hair away from her face as if what she was about to do was of no importance, lowered her head to the man's lap and took his cock in her mouth.

He was smooth and shaven, a faint perfume of sweat and musk filling her nose as she swallowed, letting her tongue drag down the length of the man's shaft. Now it was his turn to cry out, as much in surprise as in pleasure, and Vilesha felt a pulse of satisfaction as he throbbed desperately between her lips, the taste of him blooming on her tongue. She held him there for five heartbeats, nursing his swollen prick in her throat before pulling back and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. His fingers had fallen slipped free of her sex, and she shot him a smug look as the soldier tried to collect his wits.

"You can consider the favour returned, I think. At least for now," she said, leaning back and crossing her legs. 

Shanat, meanwhile, writhed upon the pole with an expression of impish delight on her face and a snowdrift of discarded veils at her feet. The woman was almost completely naked, clad only in her jewellery, the spun silver armature that had once supported her garment and a handful of carefully chosen pieces of fluttering white, none of which fully concealed her intimacies from the three pairs of eyes following her around the pole. 

As they watched, entranced, the carefully-knotted braids holding Shanat's hair up began to unwind. Though Vilesha snorted and did her best to look unimpressed, the men murmured in wonder as the shimmering brown locks spread and drifted through the air like streamers in the Sith's wake. Soon the last few pieces of silver and white had fallen away from Shanat's writhing body, her fine hair settling around her like a delicate shift as her dance became more and more sensual. Long legs kicked, hips flicked from side to side, hands slithered over her willowy form; every inch of the Pureblood throbbed with indulgent sexuality, utterly devoid of shame or modesty, her ruby skin flushed with arousal. 

Vilesha had never been particularly attracted to other women, but there was something about the other Pureblood that was working its way under her skin. Her elegance, perhaps, or the sheer confidence she displayed; it was difficult not to look upon her cousin and not wonder what it would be like to touch her, to taste her, to feel her slim, sensual body crushed up against her own. Vilesha stirred uncomfortably, but as Shanat's dance came to an end and she stepped down from the pole, she found herself just as enraptured as her male companions.

"Well, you three look like you're having fun," Shanat remarked slyly. "Perhaps a little overdressed, though I see at least two of you are getting into the spirit of things."

Joti and Sel shared embarrassed grins. Vilesha rolled her eyes. "Forgive me, cousin, the laces on this wretched corset are a tad harder to unpick than that ridiculous collection of handkerchiefs. I'm sure if - "

With a dismissive wave of Shanat's hand, the laces holding Vilesha's bodice together fell slack. "Oh. Yes. How very kind of you," she said, glaring daggers at the other woman, suddenly aware of the expectant way the two men were looking at her. For a moment, no more than half a heartbeat, Vilesha froze. But the sight of her cousin standing before her, so arrogant in her perfect nudity, was a challenge she couldn't help but rise to. With an irritated snort, Vilesha tugged the laces free and artlessly discarded the bodice. The skirt followed, falling over it like a river of gold, before she unzipped her boots and kicked them free as well. Finally, the Pureblood stood, turned and pulled her undergarments down, then crossed her arms and gave the other three a haughty look. 

"There. Is that better, cousin? And you two? Does this meet your expectations?"

Where Shanat was tall, smooth and almost petite in her proportions, Vilesha was of average height, toned well from years of combat and graced with an appealing curve to her hip and bust. Despite her irritation at having been put on the spot, her crimson skin glowed with arousal, each dark nipple stiff and pierced with a golden barbel, and she could not help but smirk at the hungry, awe-struck looks plastered over Sel and Joti's faces. 

"I'll take that as a yes, then," she remarked. Now that she had undressed, the unease she had felt at the prospect had evaporated. There was even something strangely pleasing about it. Certainly it warmed her ego wonderfully to see the two men struck dumb at the sight of her clad in nothing but a cloak of arrogance, rendered mute and helpless before her naked body. Shanat caught her eye and nodded approvingly. 

"You can feel it as well, can't you?" The other woman caught her eye, slipping back into the hissing, sibilant tones of their native tongue. "This is another kind of power you would do well to learn about. You're a blunt object, cousin, clever enough but far too direct in your approach. Seduction and manipulation can be fine weapons in the hands of a skilled mistress."

"Perhaps, but the lecture can wait. You've lit a fire in me, cousin, and now I intend on quenching it most thoroughly."

Vilesha sauntered forwards without a backwards look. She paused before Sel, gazing down at him with a smirk on her face, before straddling his narrow hips and mounting him in one swift motion. She claimed him without resistance, her lips engulfing his prick and swallowing it greedily until her buttocks sat comfortably against his lap. Vilesha exhaled sharply, feeling the heat and hardless of him inside her, the gentle throb of his heartbeat flowing into her crimson sex. Her hands roamed over his chest, creasing his stiff uniform and occasionally plucking a button from its hole. 

"So, uh, not to be discourteous or anything," Sel groaned. "What you said back there was - "

"Nothing of importance." Vilesha cut him off, underlining her words with a sharp clench of her thighs. "Not to you in any case."

She tossed her hair and began to rock her hips, sighing in pleasure as the man's cock ground back and forth inside her. The Sith took her time, moving slowly atop him, savouring each and every sensation as it came to her. The way his dress trousers rubbed against her bare thighs. The tension in his shoulders. The slowly expanding slice of fair skin, stark against his dark clothes, as she unbuttoned his shirt. Sel's head rolled back, his expression dazed and vacant, gripping the edge of the sofa as if it was his only anchor to reality.

But contrary to Vilesha's desire, the yearning she felt at her core only seemed to grow. Now that her hesitancy had been cast aside, the vast and endless hunger that boiled within her people's psyche crept to the fore. It thrilled her to see the man prostate and helpless, but it wasn't enough. The warming glow building within her pleased, but it wasn't enough. Vilesha looked away and saw Shanat and Joti had moved to the other side of the couch. Her cousin had sprawled out across the seat, her legs idly kicking the air as she sucked the other man's cock, burying her nose into the dense thicket of hair at its root and humming in satisfaction. Even the sight of her cousin indulging her own whims, as perversely stimulating as it was, wasn't enough.

She wanted more. 

Vilesha slapped Sel across the cheek. He yelped and jumped, his hips reflexively bucking upwards and driving himself deeper into the Pureblood's sex. 

"Ah! Better!" Vilesha snarled. "Come on, you slug! If I wanted to ride some hapless weakling I'd have stayed at home with my slaves." She grabbed the man's chin and dragged him closer until she loomed over him like some savage goddess of Korriban's ancient past. "Show me what the Imperial army is good for." 

Something flashed in Sel's eye. He lunged upwards and bucked his hips again, harder this time, throwing the Sith back with a hoarse cry. His hands wrapped around her waist and he eagerly took one of her pert nipples in his mouth, locking his teeth around the golden piercing and tugging it until she screamed in ecstasy. It hurt, it hurt wonderfully, the sharp lance of pain cleaving to her core even as the deep, throbbing pleasure of his upwards thrusts flowed in its wake. She cupped her other breast, kneading the sensitive red flesh as Sel pulled himself up, assaulting her nipple with gentle bites that set her nerves ringing like bells. Something was building inside her, pushing against her ribs, something hot and bright that seethed with the need to escape... 

Shanat and Joti, meanwhile, were locked in their own embrace. The other Pureblood had slithered atop the man and wound around him like a serpent, her legs spread so he might return the attention she was lavishing upon his cock. If her indulgent moans and the deep tremours which rocked through her body were any sign, then her partner was certainly taking to his task with enthusiasm. Vilesha grinned fiercely at the sight.

"Do you give all your men such free reign over your body, cousin?" She called out. "You're shaking like a whelp before her master."

There was a soft, wet pop as Shanat released Joti from her mouth. "Not everything has to be a battle of dominance, Vilesha," she shot back. "Though by those yowls you were making, I'm not sure it's a battle you're winning."

"Bah. See here, how a true daughter of Korriban takes her prize!" Finally tiring of her play, Vilesha tore Sel's shirt open and ran her hands eagerly over his chest, feeling the tight, sinewy bands of muscle burning under her red fingers. He groaned as her nails grazed his fair skin, leaving thin, bloody welts in their wake. "That's it, you cur. Harder. Harder!"

The last word devolved into a deep slur of pleasure. No longer content to grind herself to climax in his lap, Vilesha bucked and writhed atop the man, timing her movements to drop her hips home just as he thrust upwards. She scratched his chest, spat in his mouth and bit his neck, tasting the sweet, coppery tang of blood on her lips as she fucked him, whipped into an impassioned frenzy by her growing climax. The harder she took him, the more she wanted, and the more she wanted, the more intense her assault became. Dimly, Vilesha felt the pinprick sharpness of Sel's fingers digging into her back, but the motes of pain dancing at the edge of consciousness only set the seething ecstasy within her into even greater clarity.

She came suddenly, her orgasm whipping through her like the blow from a crop, punching the air from her lungs and the thoughts from her mind. She rode into it, dragging her hips back and forth, back and forth, dragging the moment out as a white-hot wall of pleasure crashed through her aching body. Sel was twitching deep inside her and she leaned forwards, teeth bared like an animal.

"Do it," she hissed. Something deep and primal in her wanted to feel him, that sudden rush of heat and pressure, to know that she had taken everything he had to offer. "Come for me, pet. Give it to me." 

And then, suddenly, the world shifted. Vilesha found herself lifted into the air, spun around and dropped sprawling onto the couch. A gulf opened up inside her, a hollow ache left by the absence of Sel's organ, like a discordant note amidst the dying symphony of her climax. She realised, suddenly, that the man had come down beside her, his beautiful, bloody torso looming overhead and his throbbing cock pointed at her face. 

The first rope of come hit her in the forehead; the second and third struck across her nose and cheek, where it mingled with the first as it dripped down her savage features and gathered on her lips. One final spurt fell short and instead came to rest on her breast, the pearly liquid tingling as it crawled down her red skin. Vilesha instinctively went to lick her mouth clean, the bitter taste of his seed on her tongue enough to partially rouse the Sith from her stupor.

"That was - I - I have slain people for less than that!" She spluttered. "What in Adas' name made you think - "

Sel grinned and flopped down next to her. His hair was lank with sweat and hung over his face like straw, but it couldn't hide the grin of amusement plastered over his vulpine face. "Hey, you asked to see what the Imperial army was good for." He held up a finger and began to recite, as if she had asked him to quote from a training manual. "Basic tactical education states that in the face of a relentless frontal assault, one should withdraw and strike with sudden force from an expected direction."

There was a long and tense pause. Even the music downstairs seemed to have died. Vilesha stared at the man, the musky scent of his come heavy in her nose. Then she grimaced. 

"Ugh. Fine." She glanced down at herself. "Go and get me a towel."

"I have a better idea, cousin. Here, let me help." Shanat appeared, taking Vilesha by the hand and gently pulling her away from Sel, who watched with interest while discarding the remains of his clothes. She pressed herself up against Vilesha, one arm wrapped around the shorter woman's shoulders, the other briefly caressing her thigh before sliding along her breast and gathering up the thick white beads which clung there. 

"Cousin, what are - " Vilesha started, only to be gently shushed. 

"I was watching, you know. When you came." Shanat inspected her fingers, glistening with Sel's come, before sucking them clean. She paused for a heartbeat, as it to savour the taste, before lapping more from Vilesha's cheek. "It was gorgeous. I think even I felt it."

"Be that as it may, Shanat, we're - " Vilesha squirmed, trying to pull away from the other Pureblood. Shanat leaned in closer, sliding one of her long legs over Vilesha's thigh and nuzzling against her neck. "Family, this is inappropriate - "

"Not by blood." Shanat's voice was a low, hungry whisper in her ear. She fell back into the barbed syllables of their native tongue, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down the Pureblood's spine. "Not by blood. Do you think this sort of thing doesn't happen in the other households? We're a fierce people, Vilesha, a passionate, hungry people. We take what we want, and right now, I want you."

Before Vilesha could protest further, Shanat pulled close and kissed her. She fought at first, weakly trying to push her cousin away as the other woman cleaned the last of Sel's seed from her face. It was wrong, Vilesha thought, unnatural; a step too far, even allowing for the night's exceptional circumstances. But there was little urgency to her protests, and the more she touched Shanat, the more she found herself drawn to the other woman. Everything about her was at once unknown yet familiar, inviting her to explore this strange, supple reflection that was so eagerly tugging at her lips. 

Their hands wandered; tentatively at first, then growing in confidence as their mutual lust deepened. Vilesha had never been with another woman before, and the men she usually took to were hard things, rough or sinewy, strong enough that coupling with them was as much battle as intercourse. But Shanat was different. She was like liquid silk in her arms, flowing from one soft touch to the next, her delicate fingers tracing a web of singing harmony along Vilesha's scarred form. She felt her heart beating faster with every second, her skin prickling with arousal.

Her defenses crumbled and collapsed. The kiss was returned and their tongues danced, white strings of come briefly connecting the two women before vanishing in their embrace. They shared no blood, Vilesha told herself; dallying with the other woman might be wanton and indulgent, but it was still far from her family's degeneracy. Shanat guided one of Vilesha's hands to her breasts, gasping into the other Pureblood's mouth as she explored the small, pert mound, rubbing her thumb in little circles around the nipple. 

"You're good, cousin," Shanat whispered. "For a beginner. Are you touching me like you touch yourself? How many nights have you spent alone, bleeding the fire in your veins out into nothingness? Too many, I wager."

Vilesha's only reply was a short, wordless hiss as Shanat returned the gesture, cupping one of her breasts in her long fingers, tracing the heavy orb until her fingernails clicked against the golden piercing at its tip. 

"And look at this. These aren't ritual, like the ones we wear in our faces. You had them done for vanity. Doesn't it feel good to have them seen? Touched? Tell me, boys, doesn't she look grand?"

Joti and Sel murmured a chorus of assents. The two men had stripped the last of their clothes and selected a bottle from the corner table, which they were passing back and forth while nursing their matching erections. Vilesha felt her stomach twist at the sight of her audience, at the realisation the two men were casually watching her cousin play her crimson body like an instrument. But as much as she disliked being on show, she found herself helpless to resist as Shanat slid a hand over her toned belly and eased her legs open. 

There was a pause, just long enough for Vilesha to regain an ounce of her senses, and then Shanat's fingers were at her clit. Her back arched and her arms flailed, fingers digging into the couch, her cousin, anything they could grasp for purchase as her body twisted, lost to a sudden tempest of violent pleasure. Shanat laughed in her ear, soft and cruel, as she worked the sensitive little bud without remorse, holding her cousin tight around the shoulders as she bucked and writhed in a futile attempt at escape. 

She hated it. She loved it. Vilesha did not enjoy being placed into a submissive position, and every fiber of her being rebelled against the sudden powerlessness Shanat had forced upon her. But the feeling! White fire in her mind, lightning in her veins, like nothing she had ever felt from a man before. It was a sweet torture that left her as tight and drawn as a slave on the rack, slick drops of moisture dripping from her sex, beads of sweat erupting across her body. Shanat cradled her like a warm and silken vice, kissing her neck and tweaking her breasts as she came once, twice, three times, each orgasm marked by a deep and yearning cry for more. For as sharp and heady as her climaxes were, ultimately each was a hollow and transitory thing, offering little relief or satisfaction from the endless ache in her core. 

"Do you want to fuck me, Joti Terrex?" Shanat said, quite casually. "And you, Sel Rennagen? Another turn with my cousin here? Repay her a little for your rough treatment?"

"Looks like she's learning her lesson well enough, miss," Sel remarked. "But if the lady doesn't object, I think my friend and I can oblige the pair of you once more."

Vilesha sagged as Shanat released her embrace. Her chest rose and fell like a pair of bellows, desperately sucking in great gasps of air, and her hair was so damp with sweat it hung over her face like a ragged curtain. She pushed it aside, swallowing hard as the two men finished their drink and rose. Sel's body, sleek and lithe, shone in the ruddy light, his cock swaying invitingly as he moved to join her. Shanat had already slumped down in her seat next to the other Sith, her legs spread whorishly to embrace the darker man. She met Vilesha's gaze and grinned enticingly.

There was a fire in her. There always had been. Shanat had stoked it, kept it burning the whole night long, and even hurled a whole can of fuel into the flames for her own amusement, but she hadn't been the one to light it. That same passion had once seen her march to one end of the galaxy and back over a petty double-cross, and now, like then, it would demand nothing less than total satisfaction. Vilesha sneered at her cousin, then looked up at Sel, poisonous yellow eyes burning feverishly. 

"Take me as you like, soldier," she rasped. "But make it good."

Her legs parted. Sel nuzzled her entrance, his head resting against her lips as he positioned himself, leaning over her and gripping the back of the couch. The view was gorgeous; every inch of the young man's body looming over her, from the sculpted expanse of his smooth chest, to the rigid, sweat-slick abdomen and lean hips, all the way down to the pale shaft of his cock, barely visible behind her crimson mound. She looked up, teeth bared in anticipation, the hollow ache within boring into her heart. And then he moved, and he was inside her once more, a surge of ecstasy blooming through the Sith's body as the first thrust slid home. Sel paused, giving her a second to savour the feeling of being filled a second time, before he began in earnest.

He took her with the firm confidence of a man who had nothing to prove. After the storm of empty pleasure Shanat had unleashed upon her, the sensation of being spread open and filled was a thing of sweeping joy. Each thrust was a delight, a smooth plunge into her depths that ended in a sharp slap and bright burst of pleasure as their bodies met. Vilesha felt herself clenching, her hot, slick walls clinging tight to Sel's prick. Her legs kicked and spasmed before curling tight around his hips, locking him tight against her even as he drove her down deeper into the velvet sofa. Her body screamed out its need for release, for that final burst of satisfaction as he bloomed inside her, the knowledge that she had drained him of everything he could offer.

Vilesha risked a glance over at her cousin. Shanat lay in much the same position; on her back, propped up by the couch, her legs parted and raised as Joti ploughed her. Having only experienced the other Pureblood's mouth, the man was making the most of it, hammering away at her willowy form like an enraged Gamorrean. Shanat's body rocked back and forth in time with his wild thrusts, occasionally jerking as a particularly savage motion rocked its way to her core. 

"How is he, cousin?" Vilesha called. Each word came as a breathless pant. Shanat opened one eye and grinned luridly.

"Oh, he's wonderful. Like a starving Tuk'ata, aren't you, Joti dear?" Her eyes glazed for a moment, a mysterious half-smile playing over her face. "I could collar him and take him home with me. And what of yours? He - ah - seems quite undaunted for his second go-around."

Vilesha's back arched, the muscles in her legs tensing for a moment as Sel ground himself inside her, trapping him in place. Still sensitive from earlier, her body sang with every motion, each twitch and throb sending another brilliant note ringing through her body. "He is...he is entirely satisfactory for the task at hand," she hissed. On a whim, she threw an arm around Shanat's shoulders, dragging the other woman within reach and driving her tongue into her mouth. Shanat squealed in surprise, her body going stiff for a moment before melting into the kiss, blindly groping for the Pureblood's breasts. The two men exchanged a look, Sel shrugging noncommittally before returning his attention to Vilesha's prone form.

Once, she remembered Shanat justifying her hedonism by claiming that if one was going to indulge, they might as well over-indulge rather than denying themselves the whole of an experience. Vilesha had written it off at the time, but now, she understood something of it. It was the prerogative of the strong to take what they wanted from the galaxy, power and pleasure alike. Let the Jedi sit in their cold temples, too afraid to indulge themselves for fear of losing control. She was Sith, Force-capability be damned, and all the galaxy was hers to experience.

She broke the kiss, grasping Sel's forearm with her spare hand and pulling him down until their foreheads almost touched. Vilesha could feel the climax coming fast, her body growing tight, drawn thin like a piece of elastic ready to snap. Every breath was a ragged gasp, thick with need, and her eyes burned with the fury burning inside her. 

"You're close?" Sel grunted. The soldier's face was scrunched up in concentration. His organ throbbed and twitched in her sex. Vilesha realised he was trembling and licked his neck, tasting the sweat-salt on his skin, feeling his racing heart. "So very close," she hissed, her breath hot against his ear. "Give me everything." 

Sel bellowed and drove her down, using his weight to pin her against the sofa, crushing his lithe body against hers as he peaked. He poured into her, thick, white seed boiling into her core, lapping along her slick walls as the Pureblood jerked and screamed out her own release. Vilesha came hard, jerking and spasming beneath him, a crushing wave of pleasure so acute, and after so many previous climaxes, that it was almost painful. Her body rocked from end to end, toes curling, legs twitching, the searing heat of Sel's come dripping from the site of their union.

A thin shriek shattered the blissful haze. Vilesha glanced over to see Shanat scooped up in Joti's arms, her eyes rolling back in her head as the man emptied himself into her. She shook like a limp marionette, lost in her own climax, before he carefully lowered the other Pureblood down and retreated to the other side of the couch, followed closely by Sel, like arachnids afraid of being devoured by their mates.

Vilesha let out a long, slow sigh, then picked herself up. She was drenched in sweat, her hair lank and tangled, and doubted her legs would support her. Shanat looked almost drunk, lying sprawled across the sofa, a faint smile on her slack face. Vilesha gave her cousin a disapproving look and sniffed. Already she could feel the desperate hunger retreating. Her passions were sated, the fury so common to her people dimmed for the moment. She eyed Joti and Sel cautiously. The two men were already gathering their clothes, having guessed the Purebloods had little further use for them.

"It goes without saying, of course, that neither of you shall breathe a word about this," Vilesha said. She trusted Shanat's promise that the family's agents would gather what happened. Beyond that, she had a reputation to consider. "This was an enjoyable night. More so than I expected before setting out. It would be most unfortunate if my cousin or I were to learn you had been...boasting."

"We met a couple of Reds, spent an enjoyable few hours sharing war stories, then parted ways amiably and pulled a couple of drunken Twi'leks later that night. Got it," Sel replied. Vilesha held his gaze for a moment longer, her expression as sour and humourless as it had been when she arrived, then relented once she was sure he'd gotten the message.

"One question, though." Vilesha looked up as Sel spoke again. "We're, that is to say, all four of us, in a bit of a state. Lady Shanat's dress might not be salvageable. Leaving here might be tricky if you're wanting to preserve your, uh, privacy."

Shanat raised an arm. "S'okay. Panel on the table. Code 5-6-2. They'll send a droid."

Joti rose to input the code. "You've done this before?" He asked. Vilesha shot him a black look, but Shanat waved the question away and nodded.

"Well then. I understand if you don't want us to be seen together," Sel spoke slowly, as if aware he was treading on dangerous ground. "But, if it isn't too much of a presumption, if you ever wanted to see us again..."

"Presumption is something you're very good at, Sel Rennagen. Many Sith would have had you flayed several times over for it this night." Vilesha regarded the man coldly for some time, then slowly inclined her head. "You may give me a comm-code. I promise nothing."

\---

Shanat hadn't lied when she said the club's staff knew what the private rooms were really used for. Within a minute of Joti entering the code, a pair of droids arrived, bearing vibro-cleansers, hot towels, and a change of clothes for Shanat. Vilesha wondered how many times her cousin had destroyed items from her wardrobe before the staff began making arrangements for her, but tired as she was, the thought slid quickly from her mind. The droids quickly set about vanishing the evidence while the four cleaned, dressed and refreshed themselves from the corner table before getting ready to leave. There was little conversation. Vilesha's usual aloof demeanor quickly reasserted itself, and she found herself rather pleased at that. If strength came from being able to indulge without becoming addicted, then it was a test she had surely passed. 

Still, as they departed, she caught Sel's eye and offered him a tiny nod of her head. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was lost in the storm of light and noise that flooded in as they left the private room's privacy field. Vilesha watched him a moment longer as they crossed the room, before the crowd swelled and swallowed the men as if they had never existed.

And that pleased her as well. To draw someone forth from the mass of sapients roaming the galaxy, indulge herself with them, then toss them back as if they had never met was a satisfying thing, another sign of the rightful dominance her people had upon the galaxy and its inhabitants. Perhaps, Vilesha told herself, she would call the man a second time, and perhaps even strike up a...

What? A relationship? 

She snorted at the idea. No. But a dalliance, perhaps. Shanat paid off their bill at the door and they walked slowly back to the speeder, one supporting the other as their tired legs threatened to give way.

"So," Vilesha said. "We gave the family what they needed? Given time for word to spread, I should see attitudes towards me becoming less hostile?"

Shanat nodded. She had recovered most of her wits, but still leaned heavily on Vilesha as they walked. "I think so. The household rulers - they're never going to look kindly on anyone who threatens their position, no matter what they do or say. But the others, they're going to look at you and see what I saw tonight. Someone fierce, passionate, full of fury and strength, not the cold thing you normally come across as. A few of the men outside the House might even petition for entry in order to court you if some of the more lurid details were to get about."

"Let's not get carried away." The speeder chugged and lifted off, boosting back into Dromund Kas' stormy night. "I need an army, not a collection of besotted suitors. They must see me as a warrior and a leader above all else. Whatever they think beyond that is a means to an end."

Shanat laughed and stretched, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "Of course, cousin. Never let it be said that you ever aimed low."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written February 2019


End file.
